Til the Next Time
by c'estbelle
Summary: Once a year for the last forty years, the Doctor and Amy have reunited to be, once again, the Doctor and the girl who waited.


Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who.

* * *

"November twenty-third, the year two-thousand and fifty-three," exclaimed the doctor. "A fantastic day – year, really – to be alive."

The TARDIS came to a soft stop and he gave the lever a push upwards and bounded to the door, scarf in hand.

"I shant be more than a minute, love," he called. As the door shut behind him, both he and the TARDIS knew he was lying. He would be much longer than a minute.

It always happened the same way: there always came a time, albeit rare, that things around the TARDIS got quiet and everything in the universe was alright. Everyone, every living thing, had turned to him, and when he was finished, he was alone.

"No more," he had told her months ago. "No more companions. No more friends. It's too much. Those dumb apes, really, they're too much a liability; too clumsy, far too… far too human. So that's it, then. It's you and me, sexy. You and me. Lucky girl, you are!"

Of course, she knew him well enough to know what he was truly telling her; the goodbyes were too much.

"The Doctor doesn't like endings," River had once said.

Her stolen Time Lord, still such a boy in her eyes, was completely and utterly alone in a universe full of adventure and possibility. Everything to see, yet no one to share it with. The overwhelming sense of loneliness overtook him occasionally, and he, with no one to turn to, turned to himself and wallowed there.

And she, because she could do no more, simply carried him to his next destination.

So, when he felt that the weather should be getting cold and that he needed the sting on his cheeks, her stolen Time Lord parked her, said his goodbyes, and disappeared for hours.

...

"Beachy Head, England!" he pronounced, clapping his hands together and straightening his scarf. "Not much history, but a hell of a view, and not to mention, lighthouses."

When he got no reply, he remembered he was alone and straightened his shoulders to take in a sharp breath of the crispy salt air. Quietly, told himself, "Lighthouses are cool."

...

He walked with his hands in his pockets until his face was red and chapped. For the better part of an hour, the land had been his, the air far too cold to be inviting to most.

Until now.

For ahead of him, by about 90 metres, sat a figure on a bench. By the looks of it, an older woman, dressed in a white shirt with a blue scarf wrapped around her head.

"Excuse me," he called once he had gotten closer. "Isn't it a tad cold to be here without a jacket?"

The wind caught, and on it, brought the Doctor not only a new gust of sea air, but the blue scarf. As he cradled it in his left hand, he looked back to the figure, whose red hair had tumbled out from underneath it.

"Oi, you're one to be talking, in just a scarf," she replied.

The accent. It was unmistakable; a thick Scottish accent with just a hint of attitude.

It couldn't be.

"It's about time you showed up, too," she continued, looking at her watch. "You're late, Raggedy Man."

It was.

"A-A-"

For once, the Doctor was at a loss for words.

"…My," the redhead finished for him. "Get over here, then, mate."

He rushed to her and cradled her in both arms, burying his face in her shoulder.

"It can't be!" he exclaimed, pulling her back. His hands gripped her shoulders as he peered into her eyes, and let them go as he circled and examined her from head to toe. "But- but it is! Amelia Pond! My Amy Pond! The girl who waited," he finished quietly as he took her back into his arms.

"I don't look that different, do I? Careful to insult a woman," Amy threw at him, waggling her finger back and forth. "You only just saw me a year ago. Yes, I've gotten some new wrinkles, but I still do it for Ror- oh, God, can you tell that I've finally given up the running? Not that it was really running anymore, more like labored jogging. Any how, it wasn't by choice, the doctor said-"

"A year ago? That's impossible. I was in New New York this time a year ago. Pond, what are you on about?"

Her eyes widened as she put the missing pieces together.

"You haven't been here, have you? On November 23rd? You haven't been here."

The Doctor paused.

"No," he said carefully.

"Well, then, my friend," she beamed. "Me and you have some catching up to do. A lot, really, if you want to get technical. Meet you here… well, see you forty years ago, Raggedy Man."

...

I'm a bit rusty, as I used to publish under a different name, but more nervous than I imagined I would be! Let me know what you think :)


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